


They Have A Cottage Too

by WaldosAkimbo



Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Getting Dressed, Other, Smoking, Socks, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: Gabriel and Beelzebub spend time together after the notapocalypse, secluded and probably too afraid to say they love each other.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789003
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	They Have A Cottage Too

There were plenty of ins and outs to learn, as far as the standards for human activities went. And after the bitterness of all that planning was shot to shit, someone had deemed it appropriate to take what essentially amounted to 6000 years of stacked PTO and burn it all in one go. One had filed theirs with a stain on the corner. The other had neatly stamped the records and slipped it into a respective folder without comment or confirmation, as they were the head of the office and oversight was under their jurisdiction.

And then they fucked off together, in a fashion that could only be learned from those assholes who had left everyone’s schedules opened for whoever knows how long.

Either way, restaurants and outings were on a list, but the world was in some sort’ve uproar and Beelzebub and Gabriel looked at the humans, decided they were not at all ready to fully ingratiate into _that_ shitshow, and further fucked off somewhere remote. It was warm, because they both weirdly insisted on that, and it was lonely, and it was bright. And the cabin shook with their ferocious attempts at showing love, carnal or otherwise, a battle built in their bones that needed to be worked out until they could learn otherwise.

Beelzebub was sprawled out on the rug, ratty hair briefly tamed by a bath returned to mats by rolling their skull on the rug as their thin chest heaved and heaved. Gabriel had left bruises like stamps of approval on their collarbone and small breasts, between the honeycomb welts on their sternum. They had one foot up in the air, calf against the couch, while the other was tucked in underneath it.

They think they want a cigarette. There was an image in their mind, lovers tangled in bed sheets, in each other’s limbs, and smoke trailing away from them as they passed it back and forth between each other. Hell was a No Smoking Area and, generally, they ended up doing so in the hallways, daring someone to mention it.

It was the thin, whimpering sigh from Gabriel nearby that pulled them out of the fantasy. Lovers. Gross.

Their eyes flicked back to find Gabriel drawing his hand up to his chest, holding it a moment, and then climbing the rest of the way up to his knees. He managed a few bruises, yes. Bites, absolutely. They had broken his fucking wrist and split his lip and watched him unravel while they fucked him into the floor. And the sweet cries of ecstasy that came from that stupid archangel. Well, one might understand the appeal of a heavenly choir, if it sounded like that.

“Where are you going?” Beelzebub didn’t necessarily _mean_ to snap at him. It came naturally.

“Just…” Gabriel flexed his hand and grinned down at the churn of bones, no doubt forcing them to mend faster. Shame. They were going to wear their bruises for a while, because they liked them. “Trying to find my pants.”

“Why?”

“You said you wanted cigarettes?”

Had they? Shit, were they talking aloud again without realizing it?

Sealing their lips together, Beelzebub hummed – buzzed – and pointed towards the delicate looking bureau that came with the property. White, with a scroll carved into the wood at the top and these ugly little flowers painted with such fine care along the signs. They thought about burning the piece just for the sheer fact of how light and beautiful the thing was, but Gabriel had convinced them not the worry about it when he ripped their trousers down the sides and tossed them onto the couch.

With another groan, Gabriel was up, the solidness of his shadow sliding through the room and their eyes remained on him, on the uneven pits along his back – arrow wounds? – and the lines they’d scratched above his hips, a frame above his ass. It made them grin for the simple pleasure that they wanted to bite each cheek again.

Too bad they disappeared when Gabriel stepped into his lilac boxers. They were crumpled until he smoothed his hand down the side, and when he turned, Beelzebub hummed – buzzed – another laugh against their lips. Modesty was not a word they cared about, either of them, but it was strangely absurd he bothered with pants. No doubt they would muss the line of his slacks he was so meticulous about, but seeing he had the boxers fitted and even pressed them by miracle meant he was just finicky about everything. Too bad they did absolutely nothing to hide his cock. But that probably wasn’t the point.

The shirt stays were still clipped to his collared shirt, dangling like marionette strings, and Gabriel leaned back against the wall as he slid the garters up each leg, clipping them into place. That his wonderfully hairy stomach was gone was a shame, but he still had a peak of his chest and collarbones on display, half-buttoned up for a bit.

“No tie,” Beelzebub ordered, and Gabriel huffed a laugh towards the hands on his chest.

“Say the magic words then.”

“Fuck you.”

He shrugged and turned around; brows creased together as he looked for his slacks and found them folded neatly over the back of a chair. The only item that managed such attention.

The drag of the zipper kept Beelzebub’s attention on his hands again, and they gently traced their fingers down their stomach. With half a mind to get up and join him, they were surprised when he knelt and kissed from their ankle down their calf, scooping thick fingers under the base of their skull, lifting them and meeting them with a kiss to their lips. They didn’t try to bite him this time.

“Where’s my socks?” he muttered against their mouth and they could only imagine the taste of ash shared between them, the curl of smoke around their head, around his head, interloping halos. He didn’t _have_ to go, but they wanted….

They grimaced, not because they were unhappy, jerking their face away to continue to look for him. Stupid archangel couldn’t find anything without them, hmm? Pathetic. It warmed something in their chest, lighting up the trail of those bruises. _Pa-the-tic._

Pulling their foot out of his big warm hand, they kicked at the cushions of the couch, flipping them one at a time. Weird, because they knew demons who specifically stole socks from dryers and lost them to the couch cushions. Annoying thing to do. In the grand scheme of things, hardly worth mentioning, but even small grievances deserved their demons, when they could be spared. Of course, this meant that Beelzebub performed those small grievances, and an archdemon does not reveal all their secrets.

There was a little shadow underneath. Beelzebub motioned towards it, thumping their hand on the floor, and Gabriel tilted himself down, same as a man in supplication, then bit his tongue between his lips and struggled to reach underneath the couch, his fingers finally closing on the fabric. He yanked out his bunched socks tangled up in a lonely fishnet twin.

Gabriel laughed again, pulling Beelzebub’s sock loose, and slid it down their foot, one last gentle kiss to the arch. They nearly swatted his nose, but decided they’d wait for a chance at that later.

“Be quick,” they demanded, watching him roll his sock up, his fingers so careful with the fabric as they were careful with Beelzebub’s body. Just now. And how it dug through them, wanting more of that. _Dizzzzgusting._

Sensing _something_ unspoken – one hoped it was unspoken – Gabriel looked down at the demon sprawled on the floor and struggled to hide a smile.

“Come with me.”

“No. Your errand.” They rolled and pushed themselves up, dressed in nothing but the one sock, leaving him with a view of their mottled backside. “So _be_ _quick._ ”

Gabriel caught their wrist before they walked to the kitchen to eat, hopefully something chemically and awful, and wrapped his arms around their small frame. It ignited that need to fight back, as any of their movements were want to trip some live wire inside them, to fight back, to win. But he simply pressed his lips against their temple. Brief, firm, lovely. And was gone.


End file.
